The Beauty of Space

For my triplet daughters on their birthday.

thirty-five years to this day of your birth, my vision for y’all was matching dresses,

only you didn’t match.  

time passed, and anecdotally, your differences made for interesting characters,

but you were actual humans, hijacking the narrative.

our life became your lives, what the hell,

but I could only shoot so many messengers, and most of them were you.   

i hoped and despaired to the exact same what-are-the-odds universe that loosed

a triad of sea monkeys swimming beneath my heart into the world:

let them be okay in life. happy, even.      

at this moment, one, pink floral, two, worn flannel, three, black turtleneck,

my willful scatterlings,

the mothership is now a satellite, mission (love) unchanged;

admirer of your singular solar systems, unique orbits,

a distant shining, watching you shine.